


you (i) take things too hard

by Eiprej



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 07:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6508792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eiprej/pseuds/Eiprej
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathan likes watching Victoria get ready in the morning.<br/>[ Nathan thinks a little too hard during Victoria's morning routine. It's an issue. ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	you (i) take things too hard

**Author's Note:**

> been having some real intense chasescott feelings lately, so here's a short little drabble. these two kids are something else. now that i'm done workin on Love is Strange, i'll be back to posting semi-frequently!

Nathan likes watching Victoria get ready in the morning.

He's pretty sure he's the only one with the pleasure of doing so, anyways. Or so he hopes, if only for the fact that the thought is nearly therapeutic. Knowing that he's the only one she trusts enough to drop that cracked mask around, even though sometimes he think she shouldn't. Sometimes, when he realizes just who he is. _What_ he is. Undeserving. 

The excited warmth in his chest at the thought is nearly disgusting -- the idea of his own importance to her -- although the discomfort always comes crawling up his throat like vomit and he has to smother it down with a hard swallow.

 _‘The fuck makes you think you're good enough,’_ His mind tells him, and he bunches up the sheets in his hands as Victoria gathers the makeup on her dresser. _‘Christensen probably gets to see the same shit. You're not fucking special.’_ His teeth chatter, and they catch onto his tongue before he throws himself back on her bed, lighting up a cigarette.

Victoria doesn't ever complain, so she certainly doesn't this time. She raises a brow at him, hums and turns back to the mirror. "Save me one," She practically demands, combing her fingers through her hair. He doesn't bother to take one out for her anyways.

This makes him feel special. He feels so fucking special it's disgusting, nauseating. Like Victoria doesn't keep him around because of pity, like she wants him here for _him_. Like she wants him to be with her, keep her company and watch her.

So Nathan smothers down the thought of Taylor. He always wants to ask, but goddamn if that isn't fucking pathetic. He doesn't give a damn what those girls do in their free time; he _shouldn't,_ at least. It's him and Victoria. Him and Victoria. For now.

( But god, does he want Victoria for himself. He knows it's unrealistic, but he wishes. _'She can't cater to you all the time, fucking idiot.'_  )

When he can quell his demons raging in his head, rumbling throughout his chest, he focuses back on Victoria. Takes a drag off the cigarette, blows it out in front of him and squints at her through the haze. She's still going through her routine, dragging a brush through her hair, and Nathan nearly asks if he can do it for her.

( Fuck. How pathetic is that? He takes a harder drag, keeps the smoke until his lungs burn. )

Victoria applies foundation like she's done it a million times before, and he doesn't doubt she has either. It looks like so much. What imperfections does she have to cover, anyways? When it's off Nathan can hardly tell the fucking difference, aside from a few blemishes here and there. When he sees them on Victoria, he feels like less of a mess. Imperfections don't suit her, but the thought that they exist soothes him.

Watching her move and apply that shit makes him feel like he's five again, sitting on Kristen's bed at home, legs folded under each other. Except back then Kristen was considerably worse at applying it, Kristen talked a hell of a lot more, and he didn't feel so remarkably ruined and incompetent. Not yet, at least.

When Victoria finishes, she always stares at the mirror for too long, and that's the only thing that irks Nathan other than his own incompetence. It's as if she's seeing something he's not, scouting out something he can't fucking see. And then she turns, collected, and paces over to him -- a swing in her hips, shoulders square and jaw up. Very Victoria.

 _"You look pretty,"_ Nathan wants to say, to affirm her, if that's what she's so worried about. Instead, he watches plainly as she takes the cigarette between his fingers. He lets her, watches her place it between those pretty red lips, taking a long drag.

"You ready?" He says instead, scoffing and sitting up in her bed, penny loafers catching against Victoria's clean sheets. Victoria sees it happen, doesn’t comment. Nathan only knows it bothers her by the little twitch of her lip.

"Obviously. More ready than you." Her response is almost smug, and Nathan rolls his shoulders and slicks his hair back with his hand.

"I take two seconds. You take fifty goddamn years."

The truth is, he's not complaining at all.

  



End file.
